


Rick Astley Has a Midlife Crisis

by a_lagaesia



Category: Never Gonna Give You Up - Rick Astley (Music Video), Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, Rick Astley (Musician)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:48:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27276775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_lagaesia/pseuds/a_lagaesia
Summary: The title says it all. Rick Astley has a midlife crisis. How does he deal with it? Read to find out :)
Comments: 1





	1. Rick's Crisis

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, quick thing, it's a little depressing.

Rick turns in his bed, he checks the clock. 2 AM. He sighs and turns back over. He has been waking up lately stressing out about his new song,” Angels on My Side”. He thought about his songs a lot in the middle of the night and he always had his notepad nearby, but usually he was in a daze and didn’t remember it. But this on and off of waking up in the dead of night was ruining his mojo. He couldn’t bear another sleepless night of wandering thoughts that led to nothing. The worst nights were when he got his hit song stuck in his head, and he had to listen to other artists like Journey, even though he didn’t totally like their music. 

Then Rick did something completely out of the ordinary. He got out of his bed. Today he was going to change his traumatic sleep schedule once and for all. His wife, Lene, rolled in the bed and opened her eyes wearily, and Rick said, “I can’t sleep, I’m going to go for a walk. I’ll be back when I feel tired.” 

Lene replied, “Okay honey, have fun.”

Rick put on a trenchcoat, a striped shirt and khaki pants with a stylish belt, he had a feeling that he was going to be out for a while, so he dressed for the occasion. He made sure to grab his wallet and his Apple phone in case Lene called him. As he left the house, he heard his daughter Emilie snoring and smiled to himself despite his departure. With the door locked, he shoved his hands in his pockets and started walking around the dank streets of London. 

The click of his shoes on the hard cement was soothing and Rick hummed a tune to his walking rhythm. He was content, but he still wasn’t tired. His mind wasn’t thinking about anything at all, just what he was doing in the moment. No stress about songs or interviews plagued his mind, he wanted to exist, without the prying eyes of strangers. 

Rick made it to this overpass that had a dried up river type thing under it. He went there, against his better judgement (there were probably homeless people who would jump him) and found that no one was there. He stopped walking and breathed in the cold crisp air, his breath exiting his mouth in little wisps of smoke. He laughed at the absurdity of him leaving and the fact that no one was there. Granted, it was a cold night and the bridge only served to amplify the cold, dank feeling of the 2:15 night. 

He quickly stopped laughing, noticing the beautiful echo that the overpass offered. He decided to start to sing quietly at first. 

_ Never gonna give you up _

_ Never gonna let you doooown  _

_ Never gonna run around and desert you _

He found that his voice sounded so much more luscious with the echo, and he started harmonizing with the echoes. He danced along with the music and smiled so widely, he hadn’t felt this free in forever. When Rick finished the last refrain, he paused and chuckled inwardly. Why was he singing  _ that  _ song of all the songs he had written. Then he bust out a few bars of “Angels on My Side” figuring out that he sounded really good. 

There was no point in writing the song he thought. If I’m going to sound worse than I do right now, at 2:30 AM in the middle of the night under a dank bridge, there’s no point in singing. 

Shocked at his own intrusive thoughts of retiring as a singer, he brusquely walked home. He entered the house, Emilie was still snoring loudly. He sighed and entered his room, putting his pjs back on and snuggling up with Lene. He soundly fell asleep, even with the issues plaguing his mind. 

When he next reached consciousness, he smelled the telltale sharp and savory scent of breakfast sausages. He got out of bed and had breakfast with his family as they talked about what they would do for their day. Emilie had school, and had a project that she was supposed to present on tree frogs. Lene also had a big day at work, her work needed her to secure a very important client, and she was nervous for the day. Surprisingly, Rick had nothing to say. Would he take a day off or half-ass his songwriting? He did not know and neither did Lene or Emilie, but he drove Emilie to school and patted her head as she exited the car. Emilie smiled and left, joining her friends the instant she left the car. 

Rick smiled back and the smile lingered for a few seconds before his face morphed into longing. Oh, how he missed the days when he could hang out with his friends at school and play pranks on the teachers. He enjoyed his choir class so much and he was voted as the MVP of the choir every year because of his silky voice. Another intrusive thought pinged in his brain. 

What’s stopping me from having fun?

Certainly not Emilie, she’s so independent. And Lene is very hardworking as well. So then why do I feel like I’m stuck in an eternal loop?

A similar thought that occurred to Rick was that he should do what he wanted. Nothing was stopping him from getting a fancy car or going bungee jumping or jumping out of a place. Rick smiled despite the empty feeling in his heart, he was going to have fun this week. 

As soon as Rick pulled up to his house, he went to the computer and booked a bungee jumping two days from that day, and signed up for parachuting on the day after bungee jumping. Rick looked at cars, but none of them interested him as much as the thrilling experiences. He wanted to feel something out of the ordinary, that normal people didn’t usually do. He surmised that it would fill the gaping hole in his heart. He wanted to make a difference, and so he did. 

After the adrenaline rush of signing up for life-threatening activities, Rick lost himself in his thoughts. What else should he do? Bungee jumping and parachuting are fun, but I have a couple days before I go. He got stuck in a loop and ended up wasting his whole day thinking about what he should do, coming up with nothing. 

**The next day**

Rick Astley woke up as usual, had breakfast with his family, said he was going to work on his new song, took Emilie to school, and then devoted more time to his thoughts. As he combed through his hair, he decided that he would get a haircut. He scheduled an appointment with his hair stylist in the afternoon. 

When he got there, Rick chatted with the hair person and they came upon the topic of what Rick was doing lately. Rick confessed to his big events in the next two days and the hair stylist was shocked at first. But when she thought about it, she concluded that he was having a midlife crisis. She had a hidden vendetta against Rick for no particular reason and decided to egg him on. 

“So Rick, I know you have a lot going on later in the week, but I can also do something interesting to your hair today if you’ll let me,” she cooed sweetly. 

“Actually that sounds like a great idea. Go ham. As long as it doesn’t look awful, you can do whatever you want to it. I’ve been needing a change of scenery anyway.”

“Awesome!!! You’ll love what I have prepared for you,” she grinned evilly, Rick unable to see her face was smiling as well. 

When the hair stylist finished she brandished the tarp off of Rick, spun him a couple times in the chair and then removed the screen she had put on the mirror for Rick to see. Rick was stunned for a moment, he never would have pegged his hair stylist to be so bold. He tilted his head, nodded, looked from side to side, trying to get the full picture of what sat atop his crown. 

It’s hard to describe the sheer power of what was his hair. His natural curls were unruly and amplified. His strawberry blonde hair had turned into an amalgamation of colors. Blue, green, yellow, and orange stood at odds with each other competing for dominance over who would be featured the most on his head. The cut was actually pretty normal looking; the hairstylist wasn't totally evil. 

The hairstylist stayed silent as Rick examined the monstrosity. Rick meanwhile was trying to figure out if he liked it or not. His heart still felt a little empty, but something new burned there. A void hadn’t been filled, but the idea of that void being filled tomorrow rang clear through his body. 

He turned to the stylist and chuckled deeply. The woman wanted to shrink in fear, but her pride overshadowed her need for a secure job. 

“Darling, you just made my day. I love it! It couldn’t be any better. I absolutely love what you’ve done. You deserve a hefty tip for this,” he pulls out his wallet, “Here, take this, get yourself a nice dinner or some new shoes.” As he said this, Rick walked out of the room leaving the woman speechless. 

She looked at the crisp 100 dollar bill in her hand, and cackled evilly. She could not believe how far he was in his crisis. It was so clear that he was on the edge of losing it. But she didn’t care, she had her job and a hundred dollar tip, so she wouldn’t say a word to the Astley family. 

**The next day**

The same routine happened, as had happened on previous days, Rick took Emilie to school and lied about writing his music. Today was going to be a fun day. Rick knew that the vacuum in his heart might be filled, and the thought filled him with joy and a little bit of nostalgia. 

Rick had to drive quite a ways on the other side of London to the Dome. Lots of people had jumped off this building and the company was rated very highly, so Rick knew he was in good ropes. He walked in the tall door and went up the elevator, his heart pounding so loudly he started to think of a new tune to go along with it. He was thinking of a song that you would play at the club, the pulsating beat topped with a repetitive melody. This calmed him in a way, despite his heart still throbbing against his ear drum.

Rick exited the classy elevator and he steeled himself for the countless straps put on him to make sure he wouldn’t fall out of the harness that kept the rope. The man lectured him about being safe and Rick was half listening, still stuck on the melody he had just created in his head. 

Suddenly he was on the edge of a tall building, the people milling like ants beneath him made fear strike his heart. He wanted to do something fun like a backflip, so he attempted one going off. He hopped off the building and then bounced back up. He could feel his brains hitting the side of his skull and his eyes were shocked open so he saw everything that happened. He kept bouncing and bouncing and finally the rope people pulled him up. 

He took the harness off, trying to think about the experience he just went through. Was the void in his heart more full? He thought for a minute, staring at the seemingly endless cityscape that covered London.  _ I guess I do feel fulfilled.  _ It was an out-of-body experience for him and he felt like he was watching himself bungeeing up and down. He did not want to think too much about what effect it had on him. If he thought about it, he would lose the feeling of completeness.  _ It just has to happen naturally _ , he told himself. 

Rick went back home and Lene and Emilie were both asleep on the couch watching a movie. He kissed them both on the forehead and went to his bed as well, letting himself drift off. Before he actually fell asleep he could feel his body go through the motions of the jump as if to replay it for him. 

**The nexT day**

Rick wakes up, same routine as always. His home makes him feel like he can never leave the cycle. Sure, Lene makes something different for breakfast everyday, but the routine of sitting down and discussing plans for the day is too much for Rick to handle. He leaves home early, asking Lene to take Emilie to school for him. 

Rick had a long drive ahead of him and he decided to listen to some Journey since he had no other CDs in his car. When he finally arrived at the skydiving place, he met his tandem buddy and they exchanged a few words and became fast friends. He explained what would happen, Rick actually listening this time around, and they got in their flying suits. 

Rick sat in the plane and chatted with the man jumping with him strapped like a big baby. They had a lot of similar hobbies and Rick even asked the man if he wanted to go for a drink after jumping. The man agreed and then the plane opened its door. The rush of wind from the outside was deafening and Rick felt at ease with the sound. His thoughts were too quiet, everything was overshadowed by the expanse of the field below them. 

Rick gave a thumbs up to his carrier and they jumped out the plane. He didn’t say a word as he fell through the sky. This had a different feeling than bungee jumping, there was no constriction of the rope keeping you alive. This was true freedom. Rick could fall for hours and still not be satisfied with the freedom he felt. His stomach was long gone, and the pressure coming up onto his front side made him feel like he was stuck in space. The freefall ended abruptly for Rick, he would have liked to only pull out the parachute at the last second to continue the weightlessness of falling. 

When the parachute was ejected, Rick felt his body being pulled up very jarringly. He hated the feeling. It was almost worse than the bungee jumping rope. His freedom was stolen from an inanimate object and he couldn’t do anything to combat it. He felt a little sad at the sudden wake up call. 

As they glided to the ground, Rick thanked the man he was strapped onto. When they hit the ground, Rick’s legs gave out because of the paralyzing feeling in the sky. He chuckled and got up, the man unhooking himself from him. It was mid-afternoon, and the man only had one more jump left to do, so Rick asked if he could ride in the co-pilot seat to see him off. He did exactly that (through a little bribery, rich people gotta rich) and waved goodbye as his new friend fell through the sky. 

Bill, the tandem man, went with Rick to a nearby bar and they drank a lot together, sharing stories and jokes. Rick was happy that he made a new friend and exchanged numbers so they could meet up again. When they finished Rick drove home (don’t drink and drive dumbass Rick) and almost got into a car crash on a highway, but swerved at the last moment to avoid the impact. He made it home safe and climbed into bed again. 

Rick slept and slept, for a long time it seemed. But he had woken up before Lene. It was a weekend and he usually woke up before his beloved wife, so he made breakfast for the family. Since it was a weekend, the family would stay at home. But the repetitive nature of another day eating breakfast with his family was unbearable and towards the end of his meal, he just walked out. Lene and Emilie were confused, but sometimes Rick had odd moods where he would leave suddenly, although it hadn’t happened in a long time. 

As he walked out of the house, he found himself under the same bridge as before. He stood there, hands in his pockets, heels clicking as he paced on the dense concrete. His mind was a flurry of thoughts, too many to keep track of. 

_ My heart still feels empty.  _

_ I’ll never have freedom like that again.  _

_ What’s the point?  _

Rick was not fulfilled by what he had done. Sure, it was a fun experience. But did it make him feel more full, more accomplished? No. 

So then what was the point of living? Why should he keep on this cyclic path of waking up with his family and eating breakfast, if he was just going to end up dying anyway? He would never truly be serene, something would always be wrong.

Richard Paul Astley made a decision. He briskly walked up and out of the empty river bridge thing, and headed towards One Canada Square. He was determined. His mind was made up. Nothing could stop him, not even his family, though he did love them. 

He used his celebrity status to get to the 50th floor of the building and had stolen the access card from one of the workers to open the stairs toward the rooftop. He took the stairs two by two, trying to speed up the process that would end his life. He opened the door, light shining through to the dank stairs, almost illuminating Rick Astley as if to foreshadow his soon-to-be condition. 

He approached the edge of the roof slowly. He looked up at the sky, wordlessly trying to make amends with his family for leaving them alone. He wanted to be able to leave for them, to not be on the edge of this rooftop, but he couldn’t. He hadn’t spent a day of his family life being selfish, and now that he has gobbled up all of these new experiences, he is greedy for more. Rick may have a commitment to his family, but he firmly believed in the commitment he made to himself. After all, this was his life, and no one else’s. Screw what everybody else said. 

He smiled longingly, trying to think of all the good times he had in his life, knowing that it would all come to an end with his approach to the edge. 

When he made it to the edge, he peered over the short wall at the people teeming below.  _ How insignificant they are to my life, and me to them.  _

Rick stepped onto the wall. 

_ No one even notices me up here, as I take my last step towards repose.  _

He takes out his wallet and his phone, leaving a short video message of his will to his daughter and wife. 

_ I cannot go on with life. I have to do this.  _

He sings softly to himself as tears run down his face. 

_ Never gonna give you up _

_ Never gonna let you down _

_ Never gonna run around and desert you _

_ Never gonna make you cry  _

_ Never gonna say goodbye _

_ Never gonna tell a lie and hurt you _

Then, Rick starts to laugh. 

_ The irony is not lost on me here. I have betrayed every one of my morals. Yet I must do this.  _

He jumps off. 

Wind flows through his blue, green, yellow, and orange dyed hair. His trenchcoat flails in the wind. His comfy grandpa slippers threaten to fall, but cling to his feet as he falls. 

__ _ … Goodbye… _


	2. The Mourning Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick's family deals with the grief of his death.

Lene is at work when she hears the news. Emilie is called out of her Saturday school and her mother is in the office when she learns. She doesn’t cry at first, thinking it’s a prank, Dad will pop out from the door any second now. 

The ride home is silent. Lene drives, tears slipping silently down her cheeks. Emilie looks out the window, getting a headache from watching the buildings blend together. They pull in the driveway and Lene reaches to unbuckle her belt and loses it. She starts crying even harder, the tears stacking on top of each other, blurring her vision. She wants to scream at the world, but Emilie is right there, and she can’t completely lose it with her there. Unlike her husband, she respects her commitments to her family. She wipes her face, smearing her makeup on her new white blouse. She gets up and out of the car, softly closing the door before she rounds the car to open her daughter’s door. 

Emilie is shocked when her mother opens her door for her and picks her up. She hasn’t been picked up since she was a little girl. Lene cradles Emilie in her arms and takes her inside, Emilie’s backpack alone in the car. Lene goes over to the couch and sits down. Emilie understands and wraps her arms around her mother and buries her face in her neck. She doesn’t cry in the first minute, her thoughts are too muddied to make a coherent reaction, plus her head still hurts from the drive home. 

Then, the pre-teen girl lets a tear slip. The first one emboldens the other tears to fall out as well. Soon, Emilie is bawling like a child who has had her precious toy incinerated. Lene strokes her back and coos soft, consoling words into her child’s ear. This goes on for ten minutes, and by the end Emilie’s eyes are red and puffy, Lene’s blouse is basically destroyed from the mascara rubbed on her shirt. Emilie stays in her mother’s arms for a few more minutes before promptly passing out, the cry took a lot out of her, and she had a long day at school. Lene twists her head to look at Emilie’s face and takes her to her bed. When Emilie is fully asleep and comfortable on her bed, Lene leaves her room and stumbles back to the couch. 

Thousands of unspoken words fly through her head. She tries to sort through them but is lost in the sheer magnitude of it all. She stays on the couch, head buried in her hands, before looking up and making a quick decision. She goes back to the car to get her bag, pulls out her phone, and finds the contact that she wants to call. The phone dials for a few seconds before someone answers. 

“Hi Chrissy, I’m going to take the day off next week… Yes, I’m doing fine, just a family emergency that I need to take care of. … Yes, of course I won’t forget about the client, I’ll be prepared. … Alright, thank you Chrissy. Also please don’t call me during this week, I really need some family alone time… Yep! Okay, bye Chrissy, see you in a week.”

Lene sets the phone down on the table and slumps back onto the couch. Five minutes later, she gets up and writes a quick note on some scratch paper for when Emilie eventually wakes up. She leaves the house, and hops in the car. 

When she arrives at her destination, she looks down at her shirt and realizes how trashy she looks.  _ Ah screw it, I don’t care what people think, I’m mourning.  _ She walks proudly to the closed door of her destination. She opens the door for herself, the two men ahead of her, not bothering to keep it open for her. Once inside the bar, she moseys over to a barstool and orders some vodka on the rocks. 

The hours pass by quickly. It’s now 1:55 AM and the bar is about to close, she orders one last shot and trips out the door. She opens her car up and straps herself in starting the car at the same time. She drives onto the street and swerves a little before righting the wheel. Her eyes start to drift close, the alcohol and her long day finally catch up to her.

She is driving around a sharp turn around and doesn’t notice the truck ahead of her. 

The next moments are instantaneous, too fast for feeble human minds to understand. 

The truck careens towards her, headlights lighting up the night. Lene tries to steer her wheel to the left to avoid the truck, but the truck does the same. They smush together and the sound is deafening. Luckily, they are on the side of the road, so the other cars can pass by easily. Unluckily, Lene’s car has been demolished. 

The truck driver gets out of the wreck, his truck not having flipped over. He walks to the wreck that was Lene’s perfect Porsche. His hand rushes to his mouth, unable to conceal his awe at the destruction his truck wrought. Then, he walks towards the point of collision between both cars and discovers that his truck has a small dent on it. He shakes his head in wonder, he is going to have to pay so much insurance, but at least it wasn’t for his truck. 

He rushes to the driver’s seat, finding it completely smashed in. He had a little spike coming out of the front of his truck and it had impaled itself in the engine of the car. He peered through where the cracked window should be and found an unconscious body, bleeding severely. 

“Shit, dawg. There’s no way that gal’s alive.”

He pulls out his phone and calls the police and asks them for an ambulance, even though he knows there’s no way that they’ll be able to save this woman’s life. The airbag had come up into her face, and some shrapnel was lodged in her stomach, her new white blouse now ruined to the point of no return. She was breathing, but weakly. 

The truck driver figured he should make it look like he tried his best to save her, so he hopped in his car and backed up. He got back out and opened the smashed door. He leaned over Lene’s damaged body and unplugged her seatbelt, pulling her out of the car. He laid her down on some clean pavement and whispered sweet words of consolation to her. Lene was fading in and out of consciousness, but she could hear the faraway sounds of an ambulance nearing her location. 

“E-e-emi--Emilie …”

“Just wait a bit longer, they’re almost here, can’t you hear them. Everything will be okay.” the truck driver said ignoring her feeble pleas. 

The ambulance got there, and scooped her up, taking her straight to the hospital that would be her final resting place. Lene died at 2:17 AM by herself in room 103 of some random hospital in London. Her thoughts were so muddied that she didn’t even realize she was going to die. Her physical wounds were great, but her mental wounds put the pin in her death. 

The truck driver drove away unharmed later that night, happy to not have to pay insurance for the Porsche since she had no relatives over 18. His mind dwelled on the fact that his truck had stolen a human life, but he ignored it, taking a swig of 805 beer to dull his active mind. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyooo, thanks for reading again :)))


	3. Adoption

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emilie deals with her new life in the adoption system and someone tries to steal her inheritance?!?

It had been a few months since Emilie’s parents had tragically died. The first thing that happened to her was that she was taken into an orphanage. Rick and Lene did not have a well-developed will, and did not assign any family friends to take care of Emilie if they both died, so Emilie was taken by a social worker to the orphanage near her middle school. 

Emilie’s reaction to this at first was shock. She couldn’t comprehend that her sweet mother had been smashed by a truck because she was drunk driving. After the shock wore off, she just felt numb. It was like she couldn’t feel anymore. She was a husk of a person, frozen in her emotions. When she got to the orphanage, she didn’t talk to the other kids. She stayed in her bed and when beckoned, she would find a corner in the big living room/playroom that they had in the orphanage and curl up with a random book that she pulled off the shelf. 

A couple children were adopted in her first few months there and all of them were younger than 5. She was one of the oldest kids there at 13. There was one 17 year old who couldn’t wait to be out of there, and twin 15 year olds, but otherwise no one else was older than her. Those three girls always stayed together; they had seen so many people come and go that they became disenchanted with the orphanage, and instead of being the caring older girls, they stayed in their own world. How does Emilie factor into this? Well once she was more comfortable with talking about her parents and herself, she joined this group. They liked her because they knew she would never get adopted. Once you pass 13, the chances of getting adopted are slim. 

Sophie, the oldest of the three, brutally told Emilie of her fate to never get adopted and Emilie accepted it. She became a part of the now (s)quad. Sophie, Isabella and Olivia (the twins), and Emilie were best friends and they chatted all the time. They avoided talking about their own parents and relied on each other for emotional support. They became very close in the span of a few weeks and the matron of the orphanage was a little disappointed that Emilie had joined the Salty Squad. They did everything together basically, and Emilie had found a family in these three girls. 

One day, Sophie and Emilie were playing a game of soccer on the blacktop in front of the orphanage against the twins; the twins were winning, they loved to play soccer, Sophie was uncoordinated and Emilie was more of a tennis girl, when a figure walked through the gates leading to the door. Emilie and Sophie looked at each other as this happened, and sighed. At the same time, Isabella scored another goal. Olivia chastised her for the free win, and they flocked to the bench nearby, not talking. 

Sophie was the first to speak, “Well, looks like another girl is getting picked today,” she sighed deeply along with the other girls. “I bet Ava is getting picked, I’m honestly surprised that she’s been in this home for so long.”

Isabella chimed in, “No, I bet it’s Macy, she’s the newest recruit, and they always go fast.”

“Really, I think that Charlotte is going. She’s too cute, and she’s been scouted by a couple of potential parents,” said Olivia. 

“Well whoever it is, they get an old man for a dad. It’s really weird how there was no mom with him too.” Sophie said.

They kept chatting until Matron Mandy came out and beckoned to the group of girls to come inside. The original three girls looked between each other. They were never bothered, and after the arrival of the man, it looked like one of them would be taken to a new home. The march to the door was silent, only their shoes striking the ground could be heard. 

Emilie’s thoughts during this moment were so disorganized. Statistics pointed to her being the one to get adopted because she  _ was _ the youngest of the four. But it seemed odd to her that someone came in knowing they would pick her.  _ That man looked strange, and I kind of like it here. I don’t want to be picked. _

When they entered through the double doors the silence kept on and there was a man standing in the doorway that led to the meeting room. Emilie thought that he looked familiar, but she couldn’t place who it was and stopped thinking about it as soon as she thought it. 

“Emilie, darling, would you step into the meeting room for me?” said Matron Mandy with a smile plastered onto her face. 

Emilie walked to the door. Sophie, Olivia, and Isabella gave her a simultaneous side eye, as if it discarded all the time they spent together. Emilie felt their strong bond break with her words and felt sad going into the meeting room. Matron Mandy closed the door with the two adults and one child in the room. 

“Emilie, this here is Mr. Rick Riordan, and he is interested in adopting you.” 

Emilie flinched when she heard the name, still not knowing who it belonged to, and ignored the feeling. She was not in the mood to put on a happy face and bluntly said, “Why?”

Mr. Riordan was taken aback by this for a few seconds and Matron Mandy was about to scold the young girl, but Mr. Riordan swiftly interrupted, “That’s a valid question Miss Emilie Astley. I have wanted to adopt a child for a long time. I have two children of my own, but children help me with brainstorming ideas for my novels, and since my children are no longer children per say, I need a new helper.

“As to why I picked you specifically, the website told me that you enjoyed reading my books. There was a picture of you in the corner reading my first book, and underneath your facts it said that you spend a lot of time reading. Children with active imaginations are perfect to share thoughts with, and since you are already familiar with my writing it makes it perfect. 

“Of course, I do want you in my family for other reasons than writing,” Rick chuckled good-naturedly and Matron Mandy joined him. Emilie was a little uncomfortable but tried to put a small grin on her face. 

“Oh, sorry for being rude. I really do like reading your books Mr. Riordan. I actually randomly pulled one off the shelf my first day here and I blew through the series. I love your writing style, it’s super easy to read without being too childish and the characters are enchanting.”

“Why, thank you, Emilie. That means a lot from you.”

The conversation between the two lasted around half an hour and Matron Mandy sat quietly, monitoring the words passed between them and taking notes. The two were getting along quite well is what she noted, and she surmised that she would be adopted by this kind man. 

After an hour, Matron Mandy stopped the conversation and led Emilie back to the living room. Emilie couldn’t stop smiling, Rick Riordan was so nice and the way he bounced his ideas of her worked seamlessly. She went to seek out the Salty Squad and stopped herself from going toward them. They would no longer be the (s)quad because Emilie had been picked for an interview. 

It was odd how no one informed her of this interview beforehand, but she learned later that it was because Rick had caught a specific flight to meet her and did not have that much time to schedule a meeting while on the plane from America.

**A few weeks and tons of paperwork later**

“Bye Emilie! Enjoy your new home,” chorused the group of girls. Some were enthusiastic (the younger ones) and some came out in a monotone deadpan (the trio). Emilie smiled and waved despite the awkwardness between the four girls. They hadn’t spoken in the month that it took Emilie to get adopted, and having no one to hang out with, Emilie reread the Percy Jackson series. 

“Thank you, Matron Mandy. Goodbye everyone!” As she said this, Emilie walked out the door, hand in hand with Rick Riordan and Becky Riordan, unable to contain her smile. 

**They go to the U.S. of A.**

“So this is your room Emilie. Our daughter helped us renovate her room for you. She’s sorry she couldn’t make it to meet you, but she is super excited to meet you eventually! And our son is hard at work or hardly working, honestly we don’t know at this point, in college. He wishes he could meet you too… Everyone will be here at Christmas though, so we have that going for us.

“Anyway, I’ll let you get settled in your new room, if you need anything, we’ll be in my office. I got a great idea on the plane and I need to flesh it out on paper.”

“Alright, thank you, Rick,” said Emilie. 

Emilie felt a pang in her heart when she said the name “Rick” it reminded her of the way her mother used to call her father from bed every morning.  _ Rick, darling, the eggs are getting cold, hurry up and eat! _ Overcome with emotion, Emilie flopped onto her bed and let a few tears fall before wiping her eyes and unpacking her clothes. She had been able to snag her favorite pairs of pants and cute shirts from her old house before leaving the UK and she was excited to organize them in her mirrored closet. 

When she was done, Emilie stayed in her room a bit longer, mulling through her thoughts. She usually liked to talk aloud to get some sense out of what her tumultuous thoughts were trying to say to her, but since she didn’t have anyone to talk to, she had to make do with her internal monologue. One thought that stuck out to her was,  _ wait so do I get the royalties of dad’s song and mom’s work? _ She kept thinking about this and could not come up with an answer. Did New Rick have access to her parent’s bank accounts that would get transferred to her once she was 18. 

She decided to go ask him. She hopped off the bed, checking her eyes in the mirror to make sure it looked like she hadn’t spent 5 minutes crying over her deceased parents again. 

“Hey Rick, [they had decided on calling him Rick instead of Dad because she was a little too old to change] I was wondering about something. Do you have time to talk?”

“Gimme a second,” Rick scribbled a few things on a piece of scratch paper that had a lot of writing on it already and then replied, “Yes, now I do. Sorry, once the brain has thoughts, I have to immediately put them onto paper lest I forget the genius. So what’s your question, honey?”

“Well, I was wondering about financial stuff… I know I don’t have access to my parent’s bank accounts that are technically mine once I turn 18. But I wanted to know if  _ you _ had access to them, since legally, you are my parent now.”

Rick’s eyes were wide and after a brief moment of silence, he chuckled whole-heartedly, “Darling, where did you ever think that up? That’s not something you should be worried about at your age. Why don’t you take Lola for a walk? She’s been begging me for the last hour and I haven’t been able to,” Rick answered quickly. 

“Oh, alright, thanks I guess… Come on Lola, you wanna go for a walk?”

Lola wagged her tail and Emilie strapped on the harness and clicked the leash into place. Once done, Lola practically dragged Emilie toward the door, almost pulling her arm out of its socket. The walk lasted 10 minutes and Lola was as waggy as ever. She was a cute dog and Emilie ended up sitting on the floor to pet her after the walk. 

_ Rick never answered my question… Maybe I should do some research for myself.  _

Emilie went to her room, grabbed her laptop, and settled herself on her bed. She was going to be researching the heCk outta this to figure out why Rick acted so strangely. 

**About half an hour later**

Emilie shut her laptop, feeling fulfilled with her research. Rick could only get her parent’s money if he went through an entire court case where Emilie had to allow him access to her funds. She was not worried, because Emilie would never give up her parents' money to Rick; she intended to save it for a college education and maybe start a new business, or travel. She hadn’t really decided yet. Also, why would Rick even need the money, he was practically a millionaire with all the books he had sold, and he was still working on new ideas. 

Emilie decided not to worry about it, after all, Rick couldn’t steal her money without her consent. 

**Two years later**

“Emilie hurry up and get to school, it’s 6:45,” yelled Becky into the chasm that was Emilie’s room. 

“I’m going, I’m going,” Emilie replied with a drawl in her voice. 

As she left for school, her family said their goodbyes and Emilie walked to her close by high school. She went through the school day as she usually would, but when she came home, she realized something was off. The atmosphere was more tense than usual. 

“Hey Rick, Becky? Anyone home?” she called out. 

“Yeah, yeah. We’re in the office Emilie,” Rick’s voice carried the words out speedily. 

Emilie walked to the office after putting her school things down. Rick and Becky were hunched over a desk looking at something on the computer screen. 

“What are you guys looking at?” Emilie asked tentatively. 

“Just our financial situation right now. We have to fill out taxes and stuff. It's really annoying.”

“Oh, cool,” said Emilie, “You know what that reminds me of?”

“No,” said Becky. 

“On my first day living here, I actually looked up if you guys could steal my real parents’ money. I actually asked Rick about it, but he put it off quickly,” since her parents didn’t respond, she continued, “I learned that you can’t actually take that money unless I give you permission, and I can’t access it until I’m 18. So I guess it’s just frozen in their bank accounts right now…” 

Becky looked at Rick disapprovingly, “Rick, I told you she was smart, didn’t I. I  _ knew _ she would research it. I even told you on the plane.”

“Yeah… I’m sorry Becky. Emilie, we,” Becky glares at Rick and he clears his throat, “sorry,  _ I _ plotted to steal your parents’ money, because who doesn’t want more money. I abandoned the plan early on because I knew you were an Astley at heart, and you Astley’s are so frugal for millionaires it’s crazy, and that you were raised the same way. I actually did plan out an entire way that I would steal your inheritance, but it crossed too many lines. Plus I really enjoy having you in our family and exploiting what your parents left you would be a little mean I think.”

“You do realize that they didn’t really leave anything to me right? They both died. My dad killed himself for no reason and my mom was so drunk with grief that she got smashed by a truck driver,” nothing threatened to drip out of her eye, and it was then and there that Emilie decided that she was okay with them dying. After all, it did bring her closer to her new family, the Riordans. 

Rick gasped when he heard Emilie’s quick rant and Becky audibly covered [it’s 8:30 and usually I’m asleep, sue me] her mouth. They had never heard from Emilie how the Astleys had died, and it was shocking to hear it from her, especially after such jovial conversation. 

Becky closed the gap between her and Emilie and hugged her, whispering something in her ear. Emilie laughed and hugged her back looking at Rick and smiling happily. 

Emilie was truly happy with her new family, even iF there was a rivalry between the two Ricks. [Obviously one of em won oops]

**In the afterlife**

“Emilie is so pretty. I’m so proud of her, aren’t you, Rick?” said Lene in a hazy state. 

“Yes, Emilie is very darling. But I’m still mad about the fact that I let the other Rick win. Stupid Richard Russel Riordan, taking away my daughter and threatening to steal mY royalties,” Rick (Astley) grumbled angrily. 

“Oh Rick, calm down, you have to get over the fact that he kept the name longer. After all, you are the one who killed himself,” Lene said a matter-of-a-factly. 

“Yeahhhhhhhh, I’m still going to be pissed about that. But I do hope he takes good care of Emilie for us…” Rick nodded slowly. 

“Look how happy she is, honey. I think she is happy with having him as her father.”

“Yes, she does look happy, but I hope she doesn’t forget about all that I’ve done for her, after all, half of her genes are mine,” Rick concluded. 

The two kept chatting and they faded away into white light. 

**THE END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for readingggg. By the way, I did not do sufficient research on the court stuff, so don't take my word for it.   
> Yeahhh, I know I'm crazy, but only the brave publish Rick Astley fanfic.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!!!


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